


Frankie's Kris Kringle gift.

by pook



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: A bit of swearing, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pook/pseuds/pook
Summary: Set anytime before Shadowplay - at the Christmas party





	Frankie's Kris Kringle gift.

Frankie's Kris Kringle gift.   
Pairing: Boyd/Grace   
Rating: T - for swearing  
Summary: Set anytime before Shadowplay - at the Christmas party  
Author’s notes: Special thanks to shadowsamurai83. This one's for you. Merry Christmas!  
Disclaimer: Waking the Dead belongs to the BBC. I’ve taken them out for a bit and promise to put them back when I’m done.

_____

Mel arrived late at the party. The Met had gone all out this year, she thought. There was a large plastic but surprisingly well decorated Christmas tree by one wall and there was the obligatory multi-coloured tinsel around the tables and walls of the canteen. A quick glimpse around the room reminded her of school, where everyone was with their own little groups, too shy or unwilling to talk to any one they didn’t know. It was far too early in the evening for people to be drunk enough to have the courage to speak to someone else. 

 

Spotting her own clique, she couldn't help but smile as she walked over to them. Spence and Frankie had really pulled their fingers out this year as well to get into the Christmas spirit. Both had bright red Santa hats on, tinsel draped around their necks and little flashing Christmas bell earrings. Being Jewish, Christmas meant very little to her. Hanukkah had been and gone. She was there to have a piss up with her friends, whinge about the Met in general and Boyd in particular, and to celebrate with them. 

 

Frankie beamed, pulling her into a bear hug. "Merry Christmas, Mel!" 

 

Patting Frankie's back, Mel smiled.

 

Frankie released her and said sheepishly, "Sorry, Mel, Happy Hanukkah!" 

 

"It's all right, Frankie. Merry Christmas to you, too." Mel smiled. "You look fantastic."

 

"Thanks." 

 

"Mel." Spence didn't bother to say happy whatever, and just hugged her. 

 

"Merry Christmas, Spence." Mel embracing him back. 

 

"Right, Mel." Hands on her hips, Frankie looked her up and down. "Spence, what's wrong here?"

 

"Hmm, I don't know."

 

"You detectives are bloody blind." Shaking her head, Frankie smiled. "She hasn't got a drink. Fix that, Spence."

 

"Yes, ma'am." Spence flourishing a mock salute and then wandered off to the bar. 

 

"And you're not properly dressed." Frankie pulled out a hat and some more tinsel. "Here you go." 

 

Mel took the hat, but didn't put it on.

 

"You have to wear it." 

 

"Or?"

 

Frankie twirled her around, pointing to group of very nerdy looking CI unit guys. "Or I will let them know that you either have trouble with your PC at home, or even worse that you'd like to transfer to CI."

 

Shocked, Mel stared. Dr Frankie Wharton was a woman of numerous talents, many of them wickedly evil. 

 

"You're wouldn't." 

 

Frankie just smiled back.

 

"You would."

 

"That's why you love me so much." 

 

Hating wearing hats, Mel put it on reluctantly. 

 

"And the tinsel."

 

"Oh God." Rolling her eyes, Mel put it around her neck. "Satisfied?"

 

"Yes."

 

Spence returned with a tray of drinks. "Very Christmassy, Mel."

 

"Thanks, Spence." Ignoring him, Mel took a large swig from her drink. 

 

"That's better, Mel. Now let's all get pissed but hopefully we won't end up like half of Special Branch last year." Frankie giggled, remembering the footage. 

 

"What happened?" Spence had only heard very vague rumours.

 

"I'm sworn to secrecy." Frankie winked. "CI does have their uses. One day if you’re good, I'll show you the CC tapes." 

 

____

 

"Here comes Boyd." Frankie's hand wavered fractionally as she pointed. "Hopefully misery guts won't moan too much."

 

"Can we hide?" Mel giggled, dropping the Santa hat further down her head, and then wrapped the tinsel around her face, before sinking deeper into the sofa.

 

"No." Spence groaned. "And we were having so much fun."

 

"Maybe if we keep feeding him triples, he'll fall asleep." Sniggering, Mel's eyes darted back and forth, pleased that she could be so sneaky.

 

"I like your thinking, DC Silver." Spence liked the plan very much.

 

"I can handle Boyd." Frankie was determined to make sure she had a memorable evening. 

 

Now Spence and Mel laughed incredulously and eventually Frankie joined in. They all knew there was only one person who could do that and she'd been last seen huddled in a corner with two other forensic psychologists.

 

Boyd could hear the raucous laughter from across the room. Three of his senior team, all dressed in Santa hats and tinsel, getting into the Christmas spirit. And by the reddened faces and the empty glasses on the table, spirit being the operative word, they were well on their way to having a great time. Good on 'em, he thought, they deserved it.

 

"Merry Christmas, everyone." Boyd looked at the array of empty glasses and bottles. A little disappointed that the only one missing was Grace, but he figured, like him, this sort of do was not her cup of tea, and so she was delaying her entrance. "My round. What's everyone having?"

 

"Thanks, Boyd. Mine's a ..." Befuddled, Frankie couldn't remember the name instead she lifted up the premix drink bottle up. "Whatever this is."

 

"Okay." Having never seen her tipsy before, Boyd wondered how long Frankie would stay conscious. "Spence? Mel?"

 

"Mine's a pint of lager."

 

"Smirnoff Ice."

 

Five minutes later, Boyd returned with the drinks on a tray and after handing them out, he plonked himself on the sofa next to Frankie. "Cheers."

 

Cheers rang out as the glasses and bottles clinked together. 

 

"Here you go." Frankie passed the Santa hat to Boyd.

 

"What's this?" The DSI held it up with one hand, as far away as possible from him as if it was a smelly sock that had been left in a sports bag too long.

 

Frankie shook her head. "Object recognition is not your strong point."

 

"I know it's a hat."

 

"Well?"

 

"Well, what?"

 

Mel and Spence giggled. Frankie was tough. She could take whatever Boyd could dish out.

 

"Just put it on." 

 

"Why?"

 

"Because." Frankie had the sudden urge to hit him. 

 

"Because why?"

 

"Because it's Christmas time, we're a team, we've all got them on, and if you don't, I'll tell the team about the time you ...." Frankie waited. Anymore of this and she'd hit him.

 

Boyd snapped his around and blushed. "You wouldn't?"

 

"You know I would. Now don the hat or I spill the beans."

 

"Are there photos?" With a huge broad grin, Spence's mind went into warp speed - did it involve whips and chains, Lycra or perhaps edible chocolate?

 

"Shut up, Spence!"

 

"Boyd ... five ... four ... three ...."

 

"All right, keep your hair on." Boyd glared at Frankie, but put the hat on. "Satisfied?"

 

"Yes. Now drink up."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

"And don't 'yes, ma'am' me either." Frankie gently punched him in the arm. "I work for a living."

 

Laughter rang out. The team settled in their seats as the drinks and stories flowed.

 

____

 

Forty minutes and several drinks later, Mel and Spence lurched and or swayed on the dance floor while Frankie thought that standing was not a good option at the moment, so she stayed on the couch next to Boyd. Looking at them, Frankie smiled. They were all having a great time. 

 

She'd been relaying a wonderful dancing anecdote or three to Boyd, but didn't get a response to a question she'd asked him. Boyd was busy scanning the room, looking for someone, and that someone was a classy forensic profiler. With a little shake of her head, Frankie wondered if there had ever been two people absolutely blind to what was staring them both in the face. And then she pondered, why did she have to be way past tipsy before she got these flashes of insight. 

 

Nudging him in the side, Frankie took a deep breath and mentally crossed herself. "She's over there."

 

"Ow!" Boyd looked at Frankie, rubbing his ribs. "Sorry?"

 

"Grace is over there." If she ended up with a black eye or something worse, she'd blame it on the drink. 

 

"Oh right." Not really paying attention now that Boyd had found Grace. He hadn't wanted to come, but had been told his presence was expected, and so the only thing that made it a more palatable was Grace would be there too. Enjoying her company, he'd planned to have a few drinks with her and maybe discuss her collection of Russian and Chinese sayings. Smiling, he said her name out aloud "Grace." He hadn't had too much to drink because he seemed to notice the apparent but not real rise in temperature.

 

"You've got it bad, Boyd," said Frankie, not caring if the loud music hadn't drowned out what she'd said. Just by the way he'd said her name she could tell. Or was it the booze? Who cares? Anyway - she could tell and she'd seen enough at work to know the lady in question had it also. 

 

Damn, Frankie for noticing. He'd thought he'd been deliberately neutral. 

 

With her newfound powers to make the team wear Santa hats and do what she wanted, she decided to be bold. "Boyd, go over and talk to Grace." She pointed to the corner where she was sitting. 

 

Boyd could see Grace's back but she was talking with two other profilers. 

 

When Boyd didn't move, Frankie stood up, wobbled a bit before steadying herself, and then managed to pull him up next to her. She put her arm around his shoulder and implored, "For God's sake, Boyd, it's bloody obvious you like her and she likes you, despite all your faults. My God, if I was ten years older, I'd like you too. You're hot, but I know Grace is the one for you." She hadn't meant to say that but she was a roll and couldn't stop herself. There had been a few recurrent dreams involving the handsome DSI and her, in the shower. Oh God! Snap out of it and stop getting distracted, Wharton!

 

Boyd looked like a stunned mullet, gulping for air.

 

"Are you a tough Detective Superintendant or a probationary wet behind the ears wuss of a PC?" She appealed to his sense of duty and if that didn't work, she'd dong him over the head and then drag him over to Grace.

 

Boyd's eyes flicked from Frankie to Grace. 

 

"Now go over and talk to her." Leaving nothing to chance, Frankie kissed his cheek and then straightened his Santa's hat. "Consider it my Kris Kringle gift. It's better than the crappy musical tie I got you."

 

The hows, the whys, and the what the fucks flooded Boyd's slightly pickled brain, but they could wait. He was a man on a mission. Peter took two steps then stopped, turned around, and before Frankie could say anything, he took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. "I will, Frankie and thank you. This is the best Kris Kringle present."

 

"Bloody hell, Boyd." Frankie was shocked, unsteady, a little bit aroused but very happy. "Go get her, Boyd. Kiss her like that and she'll be yours." She pushed him in the general direction of his target. Unfortunately, for Frankie, she overbalanced and made an undignified collapse/dive on to the couch. Thankfully, no one was there to giggle at her. 

 

Boyd made a beeline for Grace.

 

Grace saw that he was coming toward her with a powerful stride, his eyes never left hers, his jaw set. She was relieved that Boyd had found her because her two colleagues were very boring. She was glad that Boyd was the cavalry coming over the hill to her rescue.

 

Ignoring the stares of the other two men, Boyd bent down and whispered in her ear what he had planned with her for the rest of the evening.

 

Grace coughed to hide her reaction, his warm breathe in ear sent frissons of delights through her and the anticipation was breathtaking. "I agree, Boyd, this is urgent."

 

"Excuse me; I need to talk to Dr Foley for a minute." Boyd ushered Grace out of the canteen.

 

fin


End file.
